


Dinner Date

by raplapla



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/F, Light vore elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raplapla/pseuds/raplapla
Summary: For @bbabbette6 on twitter! Characters are theirs! Thank you so much for donating!!! T__T





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

> For @bbabbette6 on twitter! Characters are theirs! Thank you so much for donating!!! T__T

                 For perhaps the first time in her 30-or-so years, Checheyigen Maa looked down at the split remains of what used to be an Au Ra male with confusion. Judging from the bright ruby red of the blood smeared across the whole thing, this little plate of hors d’oeuvres was quite fresh. Where did she… ? Cheche tore her eyes away and raised an eyebrow at the smug grin on Yasu’s face.

                “What?” Yasu shrugged theatrically. “I haven’t seen you eat a good meal in a while, that’s all.” Cheche frowned, but plopped down at the base of the tree anyway. Regardless of what Yasu was up to, it was never a good idea to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it was just plain stupid to let good meat rot.

                Checheyigen unceremoniously brought a bloodied, dark-scaled leg from the pile to her face, and bit down hard. The first gush of warm and salty washed over her tongue. Maneuvering the leg to the side of her mouth, she pulled the meat from the bone with her back teeth, sinews pulling taut before snapping free. Yasu sat down cross-legged in front of her, long tail flicking back and forth slowly with interest under the moonlight.

                She was saying something but Cheche was getting to be too occupied to care. She spit out a mouthful of scales into Yasu’s waiting, cupped hand. The meat itself slick with blood and saliva, Checheyigen licked the length of it, lapping up the loose blood and letting the warmth of it trickle down her throat. Xaela blood usually had a bite to its saltiness – a mineral bitterness – and this male was no exception. With teeth like dragsaws, she tore off a thick chunk of Au Ra leg and began to chew.

                “It’s good to indulge sometimes, isn’t it?” Yasu muttered, looking Cheche in the eye and delicately, deliberately licking the saliva from the scales off the tips off her fingers. The Xaela woman swallowed and grunted in agreement, eating ravenously now. Yasu leaned forward, creeping closer to stroke Checheyigen’s bloody jawline with sticky fingertips. In one smooth motion, she snatched the meat from Cheche’s hand with one hand and with another she slipped two fingers into the other woman’s mouth, hooking her thumb under Cheche’s chin to hold them in place. “But not always.”

                Desperately hungry now, Cheche’s tongue struggled against Yasu’s fingers. The smell of blood and something sweet was hot and heavy around them, and she could still taste it in the back of her throat. Everything in her wanted to clamp down on the flesh now in her mouth, but the distant part of her unwilling to maim Yasu held her jaw loose, limp as a rat in a spring trap. Her claws dug into the dirt beneath her.

                “Now _I’m_ hungy,” Yasu muttered, an edge of irritation in her voice. She lowered her head and with her other hand deftly unclasped Checheyigen’s leather bra. So much softer and suppler than any other part of her, Cheche’s breasts all but tumbled down. Yasu licked her lips and wet the nearest nipple with a rough, scaly tongue before gingerly plucking at it and rolling it between tiny pointed teeth. An electric spiderweb of sensation spread across Cheche’s chest and down into her belly. Cheche inhaled deeply around her fleshy gag and grabbed at Yasu’s slender biceps instinctively. A bubble of pinkish saliva sputtered and dripped down Yasu’s fingers, and she removed them, a string of spit connecting the two women for an instant before snapping apart.

                Yasu paused her torment of Cheche’s nipple to look up at the other woman with an angelic smile. Wordlessly, she took the bloodied leg from Cheche’s hand and rubbed it over her breast, smearing blood and the savory smell of meat with the sweet, cloying smell of decay over Cheche’s swelling nipple. “For seasoning,” she laughed quietly, before putting her head back down and beginning to suck. Cheche’s hands found their way across the curve of Yasu’s back to her ass, and Yasu’s hand slipped into Cheche’s pants, long draconic nails teasing at the flowery lips of her opening.

                Yasu took a moment to look up and swallow. Breathing heavily, dizzy, the taste of blood and the smell of Yasu mingling together into a single taste-smell she could drink through the air, and finally unable to help herself Cheche dug her head into the slope of Yasu’s neck and bit down into the apex of her shoulder. Yasu moaned softly and twitched between Cheche’s teeth. Checheyigen stayed suspended in time for a moment, losing herself in the rhythm of Yasu’s pulse beating up and around her tongue, caught in the second of holding a juicy cut of steak in her mouth and devouring it, when the impulse of chewing is only half-finished, yearning, and the juices are brimming to the release, paralyzed and on fire –

                With a fingernail like a shaved-ice piece of glass, Yasu grazed Cheche’s clit, and the desperately hungry Au Ra released the prey between her teeth, throwing her head back and gritting her teeth with a growl. Yasu smirked. “You really are just a hungry little beastie, aren’t you, Cheche?” She teased, and with one last barely-there shuddering stroke of the other woman’s clitoris, she pulled her fingers from Cheche’s sex.

                “I wonder,” Yasu started, swirling a thumb around Cheche’s nipple playfully, “which of your mouths is hungrier?” She licked a stray bit of lizard-milk from her lips before licking up Cheche’s inner thigh. Cheche could feel a cold sweat breaking out. Yasu’s nails skated up Cheche’s torso from the pubic mound to her neck while Yasu crawled into Cheche’s lap and pressed their inguina into each other. “Which one, Checheyigen Maa?” Yasu gripped Cheche’s shoulders and ground up and into her slowly, rhythmically. “You have to tell me which one.” Yasu repeated in a whisper.

                Cheche’s brow furrowed, her hips curving up to meet Yasu’s rolling pressure, aching for the right angle. God, Yasu and her fucking games. Between the riding and the delicate circles being drawn on her breast and Yasu’s breath worming between the scales on her neck and the ever-present animal awareness of fresh meat nearby bleeding into her smarter thoughts of fucking? Of what? Of Yasu? Of hunger? Of Yasu? Of meat and salt and steam and roiling waves crashing up and into and of Yasu? Of filling and filling and filling and tearing and the million tiny threads of muscle that are snapped in a great and synchronized cascade of a broken piano pulling a hot bundle of nerves apart to the highest, prolonged, gasping, note --

                “Y-Yasu,” Cheche breathed, and Yasu clenched her breast and plunged a slick and squirming tail into Cheche’s hungrier maw.


End file.
